All I Really Want For Christmas
by StandAlone
Summary: Songfic. Mokuba and the others think about what they really want for Christmas.


So, an idea occurred to me while listening to this song. I thought, hey, that would make a great songfic! And since Yu-gi-oh! seems to boast a serious lack of parental units, why not go with that? And so that's how this fic came about. I know its a little angsty, but its kind of my forte. So, yeah. Anyway...

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-gi-oh! or the song "All I Really Want For Christmas" (by Steven Curtis Chapman)

**All I Really Want For Christmas**

Mokuba trudged dejectedly up the long wooden staircase to the room he shared with his older brother. He barely took note of the other orphans tumbling through the door behind him, all excitedly giggling about Santa and all the gifts he was going to bring them. He glanced back at them and sighed heavily before continuing up the stairs.

At the top, he turned the corner and headed down the gloomy hall, pausing only briefly to look out the darkened window at the serene image outside. The sun had long since set, hues of red and orange relenting to the darkness of night and revealing previously unseen twinkling stars. Snow fluttered gently on a chilly breeze, coating the earth in a light crisp powder white. Only the tiniest of smiles touched his lips at the beautiful picture before he moved on.

The door of his bedroom creaked eerily as he entered, revealing a dimly lit room as empty and sad as his heart now felt. His brother Seto was sitting on a bed, already dressed in his pajamas and reading a book seemingly far too advanced for someone of his age. He looked up at the sound of the intrusion and greeted Mokuba with a small smile of his own.

"Hey, Mokuba. How'd it go? Did you have fun?" he asked, returning his gaze to his book.

The raven haired seven-year old forced a grin and shrugged in response. "It was fine."

Seto grunted and said no more.

Mokuba suppressed the urge to sigh again as he made his way over to a small dresser and pulled out his own pajamas. After putting them on, folding his day clothes, and brushing his teeth, he sat down at the desk facing the window. The chair wobbled a bit, as the legs were uneven and cracking from age and misuse, but he paid it no mind. Then he stared out the window, searching the night sky with his keen blue eyes for any sign of hope and deliverance.

He could hear the other kids likewise getting ready for bed. Noises of all kinds echoed loudly throughout the normally dismal orphanage, so their voices carried easily, allowing him to hear every word that was said.

"I hope Santa brings me a pony!"

"I asked him for a toy fire truck!"

"What do you think he'll bring you?"

"Oh, I hope he doesn't forget!"

All of them asked the same of the jolly old gift giver every year. Nothing ever changed. It was always the same. The matron of the orphanage would pile the children into a bus and cart them to the mall to meet with the man dressed in red. They'd all take their turn sitting on his lap, telling him what they wanted and getting a picture taken, before eating a meager supper and returning "home". And on Christmas day, all of them would wake to a scanty breakfast and dollar store gifts waiting under their old plastic tree. The rest of the day, the younger children would pout and cry while the elders offered half hearted comforts.

Mokuba didn't know why he continued to participate. Seto had long since given up on asking for anything. He didn't believe in hand-outs, and the idea of an elderly, fat stranger giving out toys and granting wishes to children he couldn't possibly know was just as shameful as it was unlikely. That's why he always stayed behind to work on various science projects with what limited tools he could find or dreaming of a brighter future that he would shape with his own hands.

Every year, he would warn Mokuba that it was a waste of time. They had to be strong and self-reliant if they were going to get anywhere in life. Certainly no one else was going to help them. They were on their own. So why bother writing letters that will never be opened or meeting with a disgruntled mall employee working overtime?

Nonetheless, the younger couldn't help it. He couldn't stop dreaming. He wasn't as strong or as smart as Seto, no matter how much he wished to be. And for all of his elder brother's scheming, he hadn't been able to give him the one thing he really wanted. The one thing he needed. Which meant there was only one thing left to do.

Mokuba glanced behind him to make sure his other wasn't watching before he opened a desk drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper and a pencil. He knew his hand writing was atrocious and his grammar and spelling dreadful at best, but he would do his best anyway. He only hoped Santa would understand.

_Well, I don't know if you remember me or not_

_I'm one the kids they brought in from the home_

_I was the black haired boy in an old, green flannel shirt_

_You may not have seen me, I was standing off alone_

_I didn't come and talk to you_

_'Cause that's never worked before_

_And you'll probably never see this letter, anyway_

_But just in case there's something_

_You can do to help me out_

_I'll ask you one more time_

_All I really want for Christmas_

_Is someone to tuck me in_

_A shoulder to cry on if I lose, shoulders to ride on if I win_

_There's so much I could ask for, but there's just one thing I need_

_All I really want for Christmas... is a family_

Outside Mokuba's second story window, two twelve-year old boys ran as fast as their small legs would carry them, past the miserable orphanage and muttering obscenities under their breaths as they made their escape. They stopped only a moment, when the taller of the two slipped on some ice and the shorter helped pull him to his feet. They continued running, despite the stabbing pains in their sides and burning sensation contracting their lungs, until the reached the end of the street and ducked into a darkened alley. They both held their breaths and waited expectantly, doing everything they could not to make a sound.

A moment later, a gang of teenage boys ran past the alley, cursing the names of their prey while they searched in vain. They continued on without stopping, and it was only after their voices died away did the two younger boys let out a deep breath.

"T-that was close," said the shorter boy. He pushed his sandy colored bangs from his honey brown eyes as he wheezed.

"Yeah." The other boy was taller and had darker brown hair than his companion. They said no more until their heart rates slowed to a more normal pace. Then the elder of the two rounded on his friend.

"Why did you have to go and provoke them, Jou?! Why couldn't you have kept your mouth shut just this once?!"

Jounouchi looked utterly scandalized at his friend's declaration. "Honda, you heard what they said about my dad! And you know I don't take crap from anyone! Nobody says such awful stuff about MY family and gets away with it! Besides, I've got a rep to protect!"

Honda shook his head angrily. "Screw your rep! It's not worth getting our butts kicked over! And besides, it's not like what they said wasn't true." His contradiction was rewarded when a small, but powerful fist connected with his jaw.

"You take that back!" Jou screamed. Honda was quick to retaliate, and the two friends were quickly locked in a fight for the umpteenth time that night. They could fight pretty well for their age, and it wasn't long before both were sitting on the ground, bruised, cut and exhausted.

"You're one to talk, Honda," Jounouchi said, wiping away some of the blood trailing from his nostrils. "Your dad doesn't have much to brag about either."

Honda just grumbled an apathetic, "Whatever," in response.

Jou stood and offered a hand to his friend. Honda accepted it grudgingly and they both dusted themselves off.

"We should probably head home," the elder muttered, already heading for the end of the alley.

Jounouch snorted. "Why? It's not like our dads will notice if we show up for not." He followed suit anyway, but turned in a different direction at the crosswalk and mumbled a half hearted, "See ya."

Jou made sure to take his time in getting home. He really didn't have much to look forward to anyway. His dad was probably already plastered, and with any luck, passed out on the living room sofa. He could expect a message from his mother and sister on the answering machine, wishing them a Merry Christmas, but it would serve little to cheer him up. His father was a dead beat drunk and his mother took his sister and left them both, thinking her son too much like her husband. There was nothing for the boy to be happy about, so he didn't bother to fool himself into thinking he should be.

When he arrived at the broken down apartment, he was quick to enter for fear of thugs and gang bangers getting the jump on him. It was just a normal part of life when you lived in this part of the neighborhood. He didn't bother saying anything to his dad, just hurried to his room in time to dodge a half empty bottle of whiskey thrown his way.

Jounouchi collapsed on a torn up mattress with metal springs sticking out and stared at the ceiling. He didn't bother to change or wash up, and he had no need to set his alarm clock. There was no point in getting up early on Christmas morning. They didn't even have a tree, but if they did, there wouldn't be anything under it. Besides, what he really wanted wouldn't fit under it anyway.

A single tear made its way down his cheek as he curled into a ball and pulled a raggedy blanket over him for warmth.

_Well, I guess I should go ahead and tell you now_

_If it's really true about that list you have_

_Somehow I always seem to end up in a fight_

_But I'm really trying hard not to be bad_

_But maybe if I had a brother or a dad to wrestle with_

_Maybe they could teach me how to get along_

_And from everything I've heard, it sounds like the greatest gift on earth_

_Would be a mom_

In another part of the city, a young girl with brown pigtails bounced up and down in anticipation near the door, a maid standing nearby laughing at her enthusiasm and trying to compose her.

"Anzu-chan, please calm down. I'm sure your parents will be here soon." She warmly patted the girl's head.

"But I'm just too excited! We're finally gonna have a real Christmas all together!" little Anzu giggled. She paused in her jumping in favor of dancing around to an imaginary tune.

"Absolutely beautiful, Anzu!" the maid cheered, clapping her hands at the mini performance.

The girl beamed. "I've been practicing my Christmas dance really REALLY hard! Mom and Dad might have missed the show, but I want them to see me dance anyway! I'm gonna do my very best so they'll be proud of me!" She continued twirling and jumping around to the sound of the music in her mind and the elder girl's rhythmic clapping.

A loud ringing interrupted and both looked to the phone on a desk near the grand staircase. The maid hurried to answer it while Anzu resumed practicing and perfecting her performance.

"Huh? But, Mr. Masaki, she... Anzu will... Yes. Yes, I understand. I'll tell her. Goodbye, sir." The maid hung up the phone with a sad sigh, and tried to smile as she turned to the girl. It was going to be a disaster and she knew it.

"Anzu-chan," she whispered. It took a great deal of effort to hold back the tears of compassion for the soon to be broken-hearted child. "Anzu, that was your dad on the phone."

The excited little girl stopped immediately and grinned. "Really? What did he say? Is he on his way? Mom too? Did they bring me lots of presents from America?" She was bouncing up and down again, her enthusiasm and energy knowing no bounds.

The maid tried her best to smile comfortingly. "Anzu, your father... well... his company's trade agreements are... well, you know how important this is to him, and..." She winced inwardly when Anzu stopped moving and her little eyes widened in realization. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

Silver tears gathered in Anzu's eyes. "They're not coming home for Christmas, are they?" she asked in a voice that sounded much older than her eleven years.

Her caretaker shook her head. "I'm sorry. They won't be back until next week." She tried to laugh. "But that doesn't mean WE can't have fun, right?"

The girl lowered her head so far that her brown bangs covered her eyes. Her shoulders shook as she choked back a sob. "I guess," she whispered. Without waiting for any more to be said, Anzu turned and hurried up the stairs. The slam of a door and loud wailing soon followed.

_All I really want for Christmas_

_Is someone to tuck me in_

_A shoulder to cry on if I lose, shoulders to ride on if I win_

_There's so much I could ask for, but there's just one thing I need..._

"Yuugi-kun?" A blond nurse holding a tray and looking thoroughly exhausted slowly entered the room and approached the bed where a small child sat working on a golden puzzle. His head snapped up at the voice, the spikes of his hair flaring a bit from the sudden movement. Wide amethyst eyes blinked in surprise at the intrusion.

The nurse smiled and set the tray on the bed before taking a seat beside him. "We've finished running tests on your grandfather. I'm sorry to tell you this, but his heart, well... he'll be fine for now, but he'll probably need surgery eventually. And by then, he may not be well enough to survive." She touched his shoulder comfortingly. "Do you understand?"

Yuugi glared angrily at her. He may have been small for his age, but he wasn't stupid. Both he and his grandfather were always sick and somehow ended up in the hospital. He because he'd been born prematurely and had a weakened immune system, and his grandfather because he insisted on going on archeological digs and trips that were far too dangerous and strenuous for someone of his age.

His grandfather was a few rooms away, drugged and resting from the various tests they performed to diagnose his condition while Yuugi spent the Eve wide awake, alone and putting together his Christmas/belated birthday present from years past.

He merely nodded and resumed working on his puzzle.

The nurse watched a moment before she moved the tray closer to the boy. "Before your grandfather fell asleep, he asked that we bring you this and to tell you he's sorry he wasn't there for your birthday." She didn't wait for him to say anything, but stood instead to leave.

Yuugi looked down at the chocolate cupcake, staring silently into the tiny flame of the single candle sticking out of it. Tradition dictates that one make a wish before blowing out the candle. Tears rolled down his pale cheeks as he blew out his last flicker of hope, the sound of a door closing echoing in the emptiness of his heart.

_All I really want for Christmas_

_Is someone who'll be here_

_To sing me "Happy Birthday" for the next 100 years_

Ryou turned away from the door after the delivery man left and gazed in sorrow at a little wrapped box, decorated with a white bow and red ribbons. The return address was marked Cairo, Egypt. No doubt it contained a worthless artifact from one of his father's many digs, a pitiful replacement to make up for his inability to be there and a lack of devotion to his son.

His mother and sister's deaths scarred them both and drove a wedge between them. He was too young to be one his own, and indeed his father did take care of the bills. But he was left to lick his own wounds and fend for himself. He was quite the accomplished cook and housekeeper (for a twelve year old) and he passed the time by writing and dreaming up stories, all about adventures where love, friendship, and family conquered all evil.

But Ryou missed his mother and sister. And he wanted his father to come home. The man had thrown himself into his work to dull the pain of their passing, and in the process forgot he had a son who was hurting too. He forgot that their loneliness was one in the same, and healing was only possibly if you weren't alone.

Ryou brushed away tears as he opened his present carelessly. He didn't give the golden ring much thought as he slipped it around his neck. He moved to sit on a window sill and gazed up at the moon.

_And it's okay if they're not perfect_

_Or even if they're a little broken_

_That's all right, 'cause so am I_

The young boy shook his head and forced his eyes away from pale crescent light shining down on him. He'd never finish if he kept getting caught up in his daydreams.

"Mokuba, can you hurry up and finish whatever it is you're doing? I want to shut the light off and get some sleep. I've got a test in a few days, remember?" Seto crankily called to his brother.

"Y-yeah. Just a second." He quickly signed his letter and sealed it in an envelope. There was no time to mail it anymore, and even if he did, it probably wouldn't matter, so he opted to put it among his few personal belongings. After bidding goodnight to his brother, he shut off the lamp and crawled into his own bed.

_Well, I guess I should go, it's almost time for bed_

_And maybe next time I write you I'll be at home_

Darkness. Endless darkness. Cold. Pain. A lone figure wandered through endless corridors and trudged up and down steep stairs that went in every direction imaginable. There was nothing. No one.

He hugged himself and cried bitterly, wishing... wishing for what? Something. Anything. Anyone.

What did he want? And why? There was so much he wished for. He wanted the pain to stop. He wanted to feel warmth, and see light. He wanted to _remember_. But what he wanted most of all was for the loneliness and emptiness to go away. He'd been alone for so long. He didn't want to be alone anymore.

He wasn't the only one.

_'Cause all I really want for Christmas_

_Is someone to tuck me in_

_Tell me I'll never be alone_

_Someone who's love will never end_

_Of all that I could ask for, well there's just one thing I need_

_All I really want for Christmas..._

Mokuba sighed dreamily as he turned down the radio. Such a sad song. So true though. He knew the feeling.

His thoughts wandered as his eyes took in his surroundings, and he couldn't help but smile. On the other side of the over decorated, but warm and homely room, those he had come to call friends were gathered and caught up in various holiday activities.

Yuugi was seated across from his grandfather on a couch, both holding cards and smirking mischievously at one another. Yami was sitting next to his little light, one arm wrapped around his shoulders. Occasionally, he'd steal a card from Yuugi's hand and lay it down, causing the eldest Mutou to vehemently protest to the cheating. The former pharaoh would then grin and make up for it by nuzzling his little one to the point where he couldn't concentrate and giving Sugoroku the advantage once again.

Honda and Malik were drooling over the latest issue of _"Babes and Bikes"_ and arguing fervently about which model was better.

Anzu was busy teaching a very flustered Ishizu and an embarrassed Rashid how to play Dance Dance Revolution. She went back in forth between laughing at their inexperience and gasping at their horrid performances.

Seto and Jou were grumbling at each other, no doubt over something insignificant and stupid. Jounouchi's wife, Mai, was yelling just as loudly as the men. She gave her husband a good whack on the head, causing the young Kaiba to shake his head and laugh. Even nine months pregnant, she was still a formidable opponent. As for Seto, he was kept in check by Kisara, his soon to be fiancé, who had whispered something in his ear and immediately caused him to back down. Mokuba didn't know what she might have said to achieve such a feat, and he decided he was better off not knowing.

Bakura was dragging a red faced Ryou towards the door where a blushing Shizuka waited. Without listening for any more protests, he shoved his hikari in her direction, forcing the two under the mistletoe. Ryou hesitated before he pressed a chaste kiss to the girl's cheek. She giggled, and then practically tackled him as she caught his lips in a soul-searing kiss.

Bakura shook his head, mumbling about his pathetic light before rushing off to see what other holiday mischief he could generate.

"Mokuba! Are you gonna sit in that corner by yourself all night? Get over here and play with us!" Yuugi called. The others smiled and agreed.

He laughed and wiped a happy tear from his eyes. They were all dysfunctional, broken, and couldn't be more different. Their childhoods and backgrounds were diverse, their stories polar opposites. They weren't biological, but were one in spirit nonetheless.

Mokuba pocketed the old and torn letter he'd written to Santa so many years ago. Now, after all these years, he'd finally gotten his wish.

_All I really want for Christmas... is a family_

* * *

So what do you think? Bittersweet, I know.

I hope all of you have a very Merry Christmas with the ones you love!!

StandAlone


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